


Light My Fire

by CanadianGarrison



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Circle Jerk, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come play, Dirty Talk, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianGarrison/pseuds/CanadianGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A show? What do you mean?” </p><p>Aramis was sitting on the ground beside Porthos, back against the log and shoulder pressed up against Porthos’s leg. d’Artagnan suddenly realized that his friends touched each other more than the other Musketeers did; it had always seemed so casual, so natural, that he had never thought anything of it. Aramis smiled at him, with a look in his eyes that d’Artagnan had never seen before.</p><p>“Sometimes I tell the story a bit more… actively, you could say. Sometimes our brothers join in.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Musketeers fic and third story in any fandom, so I would love feedback but please be nice! I had a good time writing this and hope I've tagged it appropriately, please let me know if I've missed something. 
> 
> Thanks very much to the Jack for editing and encouraging, I couldn't have done this without you! All mistakes are my own, and sadly I do not own the characters.

d'Artagnan sat by the fire, leaning to one side and looking around at Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. They’d been travelling all day and had made their camp in a clearing far enough from the road that they’d have some privacy, and didn’t have to worry about the light from their fire attracting attention. Now, after some food and a bit too much wine, they were listening to Aramis tell them about his most recent romantic adventure.

“…So there I was, completely naked, in the kitchens, when who should walk in but both Madame AND Monsieur Corneau. The poor scullery boy fled immediately, but instead of kicking me out or calling the authorities, they took me upstairs.”

d'Artagnan both loved and hated it when Aramis really got going — his stories were amazing, things d'Artagnan never even would have thought of on his own, but as soon as he heard about each new situation he could think of little else until the next tale. The only problem was how to avoid showing too much interest.

“Wait,” d'Artagnan said, “wait. Both of them? Together?”

“d'Artagnan,” Porthos said slowly, “you do know that more than two people can… uh… can fuck. At the same time, like.”

“Yes, Porthos, I’m not a child. But…” He trailed off, not quite ready to ask, but hoping to get an answer just the same.

“But nothing, d'Artagnan! I wanted it, they wanted it, what else is there?”

Athos watched silently, drinking his wine with an odd expression as he looked back and forth between his companions.

“Well…” d'Artagnan wrestled with himself, wanting to ask but afraid he’d seem too young, or too eager, or too… too much of anything, really. “I just always thought that, if you were with any man, it would be…”

“Oh.” And of course it’s Athos who figures it out first; or, at least, who says it first. “He wants to know if *we* fuck. Each other, that is.”

Porthos grinned and reached out to lightly cuff d’Artagnan on the shoulder. “’Course we do, lad. Just been restraining ourselves so we don’t scare you off.”

“Not *only* each other. As my story may have suggested, before I was interrupted…”

d’Artagnan flushed at the good-natured teasing. No matter how hard he tried to be dignified and adult, his friends could make him feel like an awkward little boy with just a few words.

“Sorry, Aramis, go on.”

Aramis responded with a little bow of his head, amused glint still in his eye. “Well there’s not much more to say.”

“Now, Aramis, you don’t usually skip over the good bits. What’s the matter? Were you not up to the challenge?”

“Porthos, Porthos! How could you suggest such a thing!” The outrage was strong in his voice, but Aramis’s eyes never stopped sparkling. “I simply didn’t want to overwhelm our young friend here with too many new ideas all at once.”

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’ll… uh… I’ll be fine!”

“Yes,” came Athos’s dry voice, “I’m sure he’ll manage somehow.”

As Aramis resumed his story, d’Artagnan shifted, hoping that his growing arousal would remain unnoticed in the flickering light of the campfire. He let Aramis’s words wash over him, listening carefully so he could remember as much as possible later on, when he was alone and had time to go over every detail in his mind, picture every kiss, imagine every touch and taste.

“…by this time we were in their bedroom, and they took turns kissing me. I didn’t know which of them I wanted more, they were both so beautiful. As Monsieur held my head still and kissed my breath away, Madame was undoing my shirt, her hands straying often to my hair, my waist, my shoulders, touching me wherever she wanted. I loved it, having all their attention on me.”

Porthos rumbled, and shifted where he sat on a fallen log. “You always do like putting on a show, Aramis.”

Athos’s face changed, he looked uncertain for a moment, but d’Artagnan could not, would not let Athos’s misgivings, whatever they might be, stop them now -- not when they had the forest to themselves, not when he was already so turned on. Besides, Aramis wouldn’t be talking like this if he wasn’t at least interested, and anyone with eyes would be able to see that Porthos was hard inside his trousers. D’Artagnan wasn’t sure what Athos might be up for, but he wanted to find out.

“A show? What do you mean?”

Aramis was sitting on the ground beside Porthos, back against the log and shoulder pressed up against Porthos’s leg. d’Artagnan suddenly realized that his friends touched each other more than the other Musketeers did; it had always seemed so casual, so natural, that he had never thought anything of it. Aramis smiled at him, with a look in his eyes that d’Artagnan had never seen before.

“Sometimes I tell the story a bit more… actively, you could say. Sometimes our brothers join in.”

His mouth was dry, but d’Artagnan knew he had to say something, anything. He nodded, hoping they would understand.

Porthos laughed. “That’s good enough for me,” he said, as he spread his legs a bit wider and started working on his laces. “I could do with a bit more active listening, myself.” With a sigh of pleasure Porthos reached into his breeches, then lifted out his cock, keeping his hand wrapped loosely around it.

d’Artagnan gasped, and before he could think the words were just spilling out of his mouth — “That must be why they call you ‘the mighty Porthos’.” There was a moment of shocked silence and then they all laughed, the awkwardness disappearing under a rush of pleasure and excitement. With that, Aramis slid one hand into his own trousers, head tilting back and eyes narrowing in pleasure, but his hand remained out of sight.

“Oh, you are a tease, aren’t you…” Porthos spoke slowly, with relish, as he started to move his hand up and down the length of his cock with no shame or even hesitation.

d’Artagnan looked to Athos, but their leader sat nearly motionless, one hand brushing lightly over his own thigh. His level gaze met d’Artagnan’s, but he said nothing at first, until his lips curved in a tiny smile. “Sometimes, I like to… watch.” Athos punctuated this with a raised eyebrow, and d’Artagnan felt a spike of arousal all through his body.

Still holding back, d’Artagnan simply nodded again, hoping not to show how much he liked that idea — Athos, watching Aramis and Porthos together, watching them kiss, touch each other… he’d started to drift into his imagination when a shaky moan drew his attention back to Aramis.

“Go on, love. Tell the story.” Porthos’s voice was rough, low. His dark skin shone in the light of the fire, and d’Artagnan couldn’t help but stare, eyes roving up and down the other man’s body. Even though he knew how big Porthos’s hand was, it spectacularly failed at making his dick look small. Or even average. It looked generous... and appealing.

Aramis moaned again, his hidden fist moving at the same speed that Porthos was using, though he seemed to be focused mostly on his memories. “After they’d undressed me, Madame knelt and took me in her mouth. It was stunning, she had me completely under her control in just a few moments. All I could think was how wet her mouth was, how good her tongue felt sliding against me, how hard I was. But before I could lose myself to it, she stopped, and lay back on the divan.”

d’Artagnan’s own cock was hard, so hard inside his trousers, and he didn’t know how Athos could be so calm. Maybe if he just touched it a little, rubbed through his clothes with the side of his hand, maybe they wouldn’t notice.

“She drew one leg up as I knelt between her feet. Her skirts flowed down to the ground but I ducked underneath, inside, and it was so warm, and smelled only of her. She was surrounding me entirely.” Aramis slid his free hand under and around Porthos’s leg, curling his fingers against the inside of Porthos’s thigh. “I started to kiss her, here on her thigh, soft and sweet, moving slowly, teasing her. Little bites, too, until I was close enough to lick her right there, right where she wanted me, her juices dripping all over my face, into my beard.”

Aramis had moved enough that his trousers fell open, no longer hiding his dick from view, and as d’Artagnan watched he stroked harder, occasionally running his thumb over the tip. It was hard to tell in the firelight, but d’Artagnan thought he could see Aramis’s dick jump every time his thumb caught the edge of the head.

“I knew you tasted like cunny when you got home last night.” Porthos nearly growls out the words, voice still rough as before, and he’s starting to breathe harder — d’Artagnan had never imagined that just breathing could be so sexy, could make him feel like this. He wanted to offer himself, to lay his body out for Porthos to touch, and use…

“And now you know why, my Porthos. I licked her gently at first, barely touching between her lips, sliding slowly up and down — she felt so good under my tongue. She started rocking her hips towards me, demanding more, and I pressed in, swirling my tongue around her clit and then sucking it into my mouth.” Aramis paused as his hand moved faster on his cock. The hand on Porthos’s thigh moved up and back to stroke gently over Porthos’s cock, fingers intertwining with Porthos’s as Porthos tilted his hips towards Aramis, throwing his head back and sucking air in through his clenched teeth.

“At this, Madame wrapped her legs around my head, and held me in place against her, not letting me breathe or even move. Her moans and cries became muffled, and I realized that Monsieur was touching her, perhaps taking her mouth just as I was flicking her clit with my tongue. And then she was wild against me, rubbing up against my face and fucking me back as she came.”

Athos turned to d’Artagnan, asking in a quiet voice “Have you ever felt that?” d’Artagnan shook his head, knowing he was giving himself up but feeling oddly calm. “No. I’d like to, though. I think about it, so much…” He trailed off, realizing that the others were looking at him.

“Living with a woman like Madame Bonacieux, I don’t blame you.” Athos smiled, and it was like the sun coming out of the clouds. d’Artagnan squeezed his dick through his clothes before realizing that Athos was watching him, he would see; but Athos only smiled wider and did the same to himself, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling.

D’Artagnan couldn’t stand it any longer. Undoing his trousers and sliding them down, he finally got one hand around his dick, the other moving down to squeeze his bollocks. It felt so good to be touching himself, and the way the others were smiling swept away the last of d’Artagnan’s hesitation.

“That’s right,” Porthos said, and d’Artagnan watched his scar shine in the firelight, wondered what it would feel like under his tongue… “Show us that prick of yours. Been wondering how you like it.”

Porthos had been thinking about him! That thought was intoxicating, heady like good brandy, and d’Artagnan had never been harder in his life than he was in that moment. His dick was slick and dripping, getting his hand sticky, but d’Artagnan didn’t try to hide it. All he could hope was that Porthos would understand that d’Artagnan had been thinking of him, too, thinking about all of them, though he had barely dared.

Athos spoke before d’Artagnan could. “Did Monsieur Corneau take a turn?” His voice was ragged, breathing heavy as the rest of them, though his hands remained still.

“You want to know, Athos? Make it worth my while. Show me that you’re enjoying it, or I might stop entirely.” The wide, teasing smile on Aramis’s face betrayed him, but when Athos started to shake his head, d’Artagnan gasped. Would he truly not join in?

“I’m not sure that everyone in our circle is entirely comfortable, Aramis. You, of course, and Porthos… well. But d'Artagnan here, this is all somewhat new to him. He may find tomorrow that he’d rather not have... certain memories.”

“Sir, please, no! I know what I’m doing, and — and I know I want you. Have wanted you, I mean, ever since that first day. When all I could think was how angry I was, at you, how angry and sad, and you just… you were just perfect. In every way. Please, Athos, it’s all right.” So hopeful, d'Artagnan nodded, trying to put everything he was feeling into his eyes.

It seemed to work, as Athos first removed his gloves and then slowly undid the buttons on his trousers. With each one his breathing became heavier, and his eyes moved between Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan. He seemed to see what he needed as he tugged the layers of clothing down, cock already hard and shining at the tip. Stroking slowly, he raised an eyebrow in Aramis’s direction.

“In the end, I did not have the pleasure of tasting Monsieur Corneau directly. He had spent in his wife’s mouth, and once was enough for him. When I kissed Madame goodbye I could taste him on her lips, and as delicious as it was, I still wished for more.”

D’Artagnan watched Athos’s hand moving on his dick, amazed and thrilled to even be in this situation. Athos’s cock looked so good, and d’Artagnan’s hand ached to reach out and touch, see if it was as hot as his own dick felt. He held himself back, focusing on the squeeze of his fist on his own dick, twisting a bit on each stroke and speeding up to match Porthos’s pace.

Licking his lips, Aramis let the story trail off as his eyelids fluttered, hand working on his cock faster than before. For a few minutes, all four men simply watched each other as they stroked themselves, lost in the feelings of pleasure and connection between them. d’Artagnan squeezed his balls hard, wondering how his friends liked to be touched — did Aramis always like the rapid stroke he was giving himself now? Did Porthos prefer to take charge, or to relax and let his lover do the work? When had Athos learned that he liked to watch, and how often did he join in? d’Artagnan had already known that he had a lot to learn, but the unexpected turn this evening had taken showed him that there were a great deal of exciting possibilities he hadn’t yet considered.

Aramis had been staring at Porthos’s hand for some time, watching as he played with his foreskin.

“You want this?” Porthos leaned back, holding his cock with one hand and offering it out to Aramis. “You can have it.”

Without a second thought Aramis was on his knees between Porthos’s thighs, tongue out to lick away every drop of slick from the dripping tip of that gorgeous cock. He swallowed it down as far as possible, any thoughts of teasing or holding back abandoned to the pleasure of having Porthos’s huge cock in his throat. d’Artagnan watched as Aramis pulled back, sucking messily on the head and letting spit drip down to land on his own rampant erection. What would it feel like to be so swept up in it, d’Artagnan wondered. Would he feel such obvious joy in being taken over that way? Having his mouth and throat filled, and fucked, and owned?

d’Artagnan was so close, he nearly came at the sight of Aramis swallowing Porthos’s cock like there was nothing he wanted more in the world, but then he turned to Athos only to find an intense gaze directed right back at him. Athos was staring at d’Artagnan like the two of them were alone, like he *wanted* him, stroking himself slowly but hard, it looked so hard, and d’Artagnan couldn’t hold back any longer. He came all over his own hand, eyes never once leaving Athos’s as he moaned and twitched through his orgasm.

After two shuddering breaths, Athos said, “Come here, d’Artagnan. Come and take what you want.” Feeling almost like he was in a dream, d’Artagnan moved towards Athos and reached out, first lightly running his sticky fingers over Athos’s and then brushing them away, replacing Athos’s hand on his dick. Gasping at the heat and intensity of feeling another man’s cock in his hand for the first time, d’Artagnan felt such a surge of lust that he nearly climaxed again. Athos leaned in slowly, and d’Artagnan smiled as they kissed. For a moment they remained still, lips touching, the only motion that of d’Artagnan’s hand. Then Athos surged forward, both hands coming up to reach into d’Artagnan’s hair as he licked the younger man’s mouth, holding his head still to nip and suck at d’Artagnan.

“That’s right, Athos.” Porthos was breathing hard, one hand on the back of Aramis’s bobbing head. “It’s like I thought — the boy’s been waiting for you.”

Athos eased back and kissed d’Artagnan several times, lightly, a bit more playful. “Have you?”

“Yes, sir. I wasn’t sure, but… it’s like I said. I want you.”

“Well. Now you have me.” With a smile Athos seemed to affirm everything d’Artagnan was feeling, and he gasped and shuddered as d’Artagnan stroked him faster. Nodding towards Aramis and Porthos, Athos said, “Watch them with me, d’Artagnan. You won’t want to miss this.”

Porthos held Aramis’s head still as he pushed in and out of Aramis’s wide-open mouth, first biting and then licking his own lips. “I’m gonna come soon, love, but don’t you swallow it, and don’t you come yet, either. I want to see your mouth all creamy and full after. Are you ready?” d’Artagnan didn’t know why he asked, because without waiting for an answer Porthos thrust one last time and then growled deeply as he filled Aramis’s mouth. Aramis did just as he was told, jaw slack and hand still working his own cock, grunting and nearly choking, but not swallowing as Porthos pulled out of his mouth.

“Now turn around, and finish the show. Let them see you spend for us.” Aramis moved to face d’Artagnan and Athos, leaning back against the log between Porthos’s legs. As he smiled up at them he opened his mouth, Porthos’s come dripping into his beard, and d’Artagnan saw Aramis face go slack and loose with pleasure as Porthos’s hand wound up into his hair. Then Porthos tugged Aramis’s head back, leaning in to lick, making the kiss wet and messy.

When Porthos pulled back Aramis was breathless, his eyes had fallen shut, and he started whispering as he stroked himself. “Dominus meus, paedica me…” and just in that moment Aramis gasped and came, all over his own hand, chest and throat.

d’Artagnan moaned and stroked harder, faster, turning back to mouth and lick at Athos’s scarred upper lip, until Athos groaned and came all over d’Artagnan's hand, too overcome to even kiss, just panting against d’Artagnan’s mouth.

After a moment, d’Artagnan leaned back from Athos, looking to Aramis once more.

“What happened with the Corneaus? Will you see them again?”

“Why, d’Artagnan, are you afraid I’ll run out of stories?”


End file.
